


Catharsis

by RampageGamR



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Don't really know what I'm doing, F/M, Feedback appreciated, First Attempt at Romance, First attempt at fanfic writing, I kinda want to ship max with everybody..., KInda sad i guess, except furiosa, hope I get the characters right, lots of action, lots of ghosts, open to all suggestions, the wives got a crush on max
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5159762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RampageGamR/pseuds/RampageGamR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max returns to the Citadel, for the redemption that his ghosts have promised to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Ok....
> 
> I've got no Idea what the hell I'm doing here. Been reading mad max fics for months and i've been ACHING to do one myself. But everyone else seems so good at it and I don't know if I'm gonna be able to write the characters right, so just tell me if I did a good Max this chapter and I'l continue if I get any sort of feedback.
> 
> I kinda mixed the canon from the games and the movies but nothing is really consistent now, for now, think of the game as a prequel to Fury Road, but Max still had a son, and I'm not sure if I want a 23-24 year Max or a 35-36 one.
> 
> You tell me

The memories…

They haunt him.

_Max_

He remembers.

Every day

Every second

_Max_

Her face, her smile, her touch

_I’ve never been able to say things you,_ **Jess…**

Her name, Jessie, he remembers her name, her body, her voice.

_…About what I feel_

Her eyes, so bright, so happy, so strong

_Guess I always counted on you understanding_

They were by a creek, the same creek they used to go as teenagers, to laugh and swim and love. The sun shined in the sky, but not the scorching orb it is now, but a bright and warm light. And there was **green.** The grass on his back, the shadow of a tree above him, relics of an old time, an old world, he remembers.

_When I was a kid…_

Laughs, smiles, playing, **innocence**

**_Max_ **

_…Me and my father used to go for long walks_

The road, the sky, **his father**

_I remember staring at his shoes_

_They were special shoes, brown_

_And he always kept them real **shiny**_

**_Shiny and Chrome Max, SHINY AND CHROME!_ **

_He was tall and used to take long strides._

_And there I’d be right alongside him..._

_... just trying to keep up with him_

He remembers his shadow, his smile, his hand as he patted his back, his voice, so kind.

He remembers taking the same walks…

With his **son**

**_Pa?_ **

**_Where are you Pa?_ **

Glory used to call him like that…

**_WHERE ARE YOU?!_ **

_I don’t think he ever knew how proud I felt of him…_

None of them ever knew how sorry he felt, for failing, for **letting them die**

**Max**

**Max**

**Max, you promised…**

_Or how good it felt just to be there alongside him_

He never thanked them, all of them for making him smile, for luring him into the unavoidable trap that is hope just before…

**_Y_ ** **OU PROMISED US MAX!**

_Even now, when I think back on it…_

He can see them, all of them, the blood, the dead eyes, the burning lights of thermonuclear destruction…

_I still feel…_

Guilty

So much guilt

So many voices, so many faces…

Hands

Eyes

It haunts him It haunts him It haunts him

_The thing is Jess…_

Sorry, so sorry

Is he crying?

_I couldn’t tell him about it then, but I can tell you about it now_

Not anymore

Never again

Her weight against his chest

So soothing

He loved it

He loved her

_I don’t wanna wait years to tell you how I’m feeling about you right now…_

And he remembers so well, her soft fingers on his chin, her body moving up, he can see her eyes now, her beautiful face and she’s going to kiss him…

Something’s wrong

Her face

It’s full of blood, dead green eyes watching him.

**_Why?!_ **

It says, the voice distorted, different, **ghostly**

**_YOU LET US DIE!_ **

Her face distorts, the world distorts and suddenly the green explodes, filled with blinding light, fire, **screams.** It doesn’t stop; a thousand faces scream at his face, the scream becomes a haunting, unnatural screech-

His head hits the front tire of his bike as he wakes up, screaming and wild-eyed, knife out and ready to kill. His face is full of tears…

And he allows himself to sob…

He stays there for a while, on a cliff, wailing under the moonlight, alone with his memories, his ghosts. The stars shine bright at night, without city lights in the way, the moon dominating the sky as Max hums to himself, trying to compose, to forget. From here, he can see the Citadel, the 3 towers standing like needles in the Wasteland, bright in the desert night. It’s been 3 months since he left…

The nightmares have never been worse.

“What a sad mess you’ve become”

A voice

They are not real, they can’t touch him

But he turns around anyway.

He’s met by the face of Toecutter, fucker smiling like if he didn’t kill him, so long ago. His knees shake, he’s _scared_ , he killed him, he KILLED him, why doesn’t he just leave him alone?

“Always such a sad puppy ain’t he” The voice of Lord Humungus echoes inside his head, his ghostly form at his side.

He’s twitching, shaking his head.

They are dead, they can’t touch him.

“So pathetic…”

Scrotus walks up behind him, saw that Max shoved in his head still there, he can almost smell the blood…

The next thing he knows he’s on his knees, grabbing his head in panic.

THEY ARE NOT REAL

THEY CANNOT TOUCH YOU

“No no, not pathetic… **mediocre** ” The word echoes as Immortan Joe stands tall over the sobering Max.

The ghosts laugh

“SHUT UP!” He screams, echoes ring through the Wasteland night as his ghosts disappear, whispers echoing inside his brain.

**Max**

**Max**

**Max**

**Come back to us Max**

He turns his gaze to the Citadel, so far away, and he remembers Griffa’s voice, his words…

The voices, female, become louder, but they sound…happy?

**Come back to us Max**

**Max, you promised**

**C’mon Max!**

“Well?” Glory shifts at his side, blue, big eyes staring at him expectantly.

“Go for em’!”

He climbs on his bike and fangs it.


	2. Another Beautiful Wasteland Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max gets ambushed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So today it's just me describing Max's loadout, some action and of course: Ghosts
> 
> Thank you all ALOT for the feedback
> 
> Hope you like my violence too
> 
> By the way
> 
> Ace is coming up next chapter, Wives probably too and who knows...perhaps Furiosa

He rides fast and doesn’t stop.

Just like always.

He thinks that if he goes fast enough, he may escape the voices.

**Max**

But he never does.

Never will

**Max**

**Max**

**Come back to us Max**

He tries to resist them, these new voices, but the soft whispers are so tempting and he lets himself be seduced by the phantom illusions of the voices of women he once helped.

So he rides

Humming to himself, an old tune of an old song, from the Before, lyrics ringing in his head, a distraction, another sound aside the cacophony of voices that haunt him.

_Won’t somebody tell me?_

He’s so tired, of running, of fleeing, of looking

_Answer if you can_

Soft guitar sounds, he has almost forgotten how a guitar actually sounds like, but he still gets the picture…he thinks.

_I want someone to tell me_

What? Griffa told him that people were his redemption.

But people die and they leave him here, alone in this Wasteland.

To mourn and fight and go feral

_What is the soul of a man?_

Will he ever find it? His redemption

Will he really find it in the Citadel?

He doesn’t know, the only thing he knows is the desert wind, the desert sand, the old-world song in his head and that he needs to go to the Citadel.

**Max**

He shakes his head and keeps humming, he likes the song more than he would like to admit, it feels frivolous, to think of music, an old relic, when he lives in this world now, the dead reality of deth and pain. He destroys, he kills, he hurts, he’s nothing but a murderer, a feral animal.

He deserves no peace…

**_For letting them die_ **

**Max**

**Max**

**MAX**

He shakes his head harder, hums while he desperately tries to remember the words, the guitar sounds. He needs to keep the voices away.

The bike is light and fast, Citadel-made, reliable, Good ol’ Joe apparently knew how to make good bikes…

The ghostly apparition of the Gigahorse appears beside him, Immortan Joe giving him a thumbs up as his phantom machine comes closer.

Max gives him the finger and rides through him, breaking the illusion.

He took  the skulls and bones and other death trinkets off the bike as fast as he could, but he couldn’t get the symbols and patterns painted on its surface, so he just ignores them, the bike works, he’ll give it his own touch when he finds some paint. He sniffs the red scarf covering his face as he blinks behind his goggles, the one Furiosa gave him, he thinks that it still has her smell, of fire and blood and oil and _green_

He sniffs again, real or not, the smell is one of the few tools he has at his disposal to keep himself grounded, real, _sane._

What does that even mean anymore?

The scorching sun sits high up in the sky, no clouds as usual, another beautiful Wasteland day. No enemies in sight for now, but he feels rather ready. His old jacket is a sturdy piece, but he still has the bullet-proof vest, he stole from the Bullet Farmer under it, just in case. Wrists and knuckles are covered with bandages, for a little protection, the fingerless gloves he’s wearing also got some metal reinforcements on the knuckles, jagged metal spikes protruding from the improvised knuckledusters, enough to make his fists like hammers, he’s got some wrist guards too, put some spikes on em’ for both his protection and improve his own hurting capabilities. All his ammo is stashed either on his belt or on the bandoleer he’s got around his torso, shotgun shells for his trusty shotgun, the short double-barreled one.

_The one that killed Bubba Zanetti_

He can still see him, shrapnel lunging itself deep in his chest, his body falling to the road, unmoving, un-breathing, _dead._

He shakes his head again, his old badge and dog-tags click against his binoculars, he has begun to wear them around  his neck now, for some reason he can’t seem to comprehend, perhaps it’s the same need that attaches him to his jacket, the aching urge to hold on to the remnants of the past.

He’s got some bullets around too, for the revolver, that one is old too, didn’t really used it while the MFP was still around, but it’s useful. Clips for the handgun are there too, that one is the most used, handgun ammo is actually not that hard to find in the Wasteland, and Bullet Farm makes decent enough clips. He has more ammo of course; hidden in every place he can hide stuff on himself.

 Most of all, he’s got shivs, he was never a knife man, but the Wasteland kinda forces you to be, the things are fragile and the blades aren’t the sharpest, but he has many and are easy to make, he has other knives anyway. He managed to steal a Karambit, a combat knife and a tactical one from the corpse of the Bullet Farmer (Fucker was well-armed), aside from the old Bowie he has from Before and a Kukri, and if things get real tough, he’s got the Machete….and the Tomahawk…and the pipe with barbed wire….and the crowbar…

Yeah, yeah

He’s a walking armory and that kind of makes him a target, but hey, it’s the Wasteland isn’t it, you gotta kill before you get killed.

That’s the way it is now.

The harpoon and sniper rifle that the old hunchback Chumbucket( **sorry, sorry, sorry** ) made for him are on his back and his aside from ammo and knives, he has lots of tools, some wrenches, a hammer, some screwdrivers, a lighter, some pliers, some _boltcutters_

Those make him chuckle a bit

A flare gun, a _working_ flashlight (he’s such a lucky bastard sometimes).

There are actually 2 Thundersticks rattling on the side of his bikes, but he hasn’t used those yet. But his baby, his real baby, is hanging by his side, an AK, _a real and working fucking AK-47._ It was a pain in the ass to kill the Bullet Farm lieutenant that had it, but Max is _sure_ it was worth it, a gun in the Wasteland gives you chances, an assault rifle gives you power. Max has only 2 magazines for the thing and hasn’t fired a shot _yet._ But he’s sure the shit is useful.

It seems like it’s going to be a good day.

A quiet day

There’s enough wind to cool him from the scorching beast that is the sun, his voices aren’t as loud today, he’s got some mental music to keep himself distracted and he’s riding fast and steady towards-

**MAX MAX MAX MAX MAX**

The world doesn’t make any sense, it spins, it jumps, it **burns**

A single silhouette covers his horizon

Chalk white skin and piercing blue eyes

Nux, its Nux

His ghost stands there in front on him, his eyes piercing his body, his **soul**

**Max**

**Max**

**You failed us Max**

He yelps as he desperately turns the bike sideways, almost falling, away from the War Boy’s Ghost, away from his judging gaze.

A Buzzard car emerges out of nowhere, speeding through Nux’s ghost just where Max had been seconds ago, he was so out of focus, if the ghost hadn’t appeared…

He shakes his head in panic as the spiky and rusty Buzzard car roars behind him, several others start pouring from behind and his sides. Underground bastards know every shortcut in the Wasteland.

And he just got ambushed.

Max fangs it and charges forward like a speed demon, clouds of sand behind him as the Buzzards begin to shoot, bullets crashing against the sand. The Road Warrior brakes suddenly, the Buzzards rushing forward and leaving Max behind them and before they can turn, he pulls his shotgun out and rides forward, shooting at the exposed gas tank on the back of one of the cars, the tank burns and explodes, the vehicle consumed by the blinding light and scorching fire as its blackedned and burned body rolls sideways, hitting one of the other cars, flipping it too.

He rides through the smoke cloud, adrenaline rushing fast through his system, blood pumping; this is him, crazy eyed and bloodthirsty, no thoughts, no voices, no regrets, just him and the fury road. He’s a killer, he’s an animal.

He rides side to side with another Buzzard vehicle, the driver staring at him with red, shining eyes, trying to stab him with a Thunderstick, but Max is faster and grabs it, with his free hand while he clumsily aims with his shotgun, blood, bone and brains fly as half of the Buzzard’s face disappears and the vehicle flips sideways on the desert sands. He rides clumsily, almost falling while he grips the thunderstick and throws it towards another Buzzard, the car charging from the front, the explosive head hits the front tire and the vehicle jumps in the air, metal and fire and smoke fill the road as Max lets out a feral roar.

Kamika-crazy and adrenaline rushed, this is the road, this is living now, the thrill of the chase, the blood and the fire, mad and insane like that psycho guitarist on the fury road, he can hear it, the brutal sound of a ghost guitar as he gets his handgun out and begins shooting, ghost drums echoing with each shot.

**Max Max Max Max Max**

The voices chant in an unholy chorus of road war.

And he doesn’t think, allows himself to become a machine, machines don’t have nightmares, don’t have memory, he’s a killing machine and he’s **working.**

He rides faster, trying to get a good shot at another gas tank-

**Max**

Chumbucket stands at the back of the car.

**Why?!**

It rasps, voice distorted and the next thing he knows is that he’s on the air.

Flying, no, falling and his MFP training kicks in

_You gotta learn how to fall Rockatansky, broken bones ain’t funny_

His body reacts before his mind does; he shifts in the air until he’s on a decent enough angle, the universe suddenly slowed down as the voices scream inside his head.

And then he hits the ground.

Sand meets his body as he rolls like a burned Buzzard car until he’s on his back, everything hurts.

**Max Max Max**

His vision is fuzzy, or fuzzier than usual, one of his eyes doesn’t work that well, all he hears are the voices.

**Get up Max**

**What are you doing?**

**Max**

**Max you promised**

Immortan Joe’s face roars just in front of him, fingers curling around his neck, lifting him up.

**YOU FAILED THEM MAX!**

He screams as he grabs a shiv and stabs Joe in the neck, the face distorts into the masked face of a Buzzard, blood gushing out of the wound of his neck, his black rags look like feathers making him look like some sort of bird, maybe that’s why people call them Buzzards.

Max stabs him again

And again

And again

He keeps stabbing until he’s the one on top, screaming like the feral he is, reducing the man’s neck to a bloody mess. Voices, no, not ghosts, a real voice, and he rolls sideways, barely avoiding the Buzzard’s axe, the Buzzard screams in his tongue, an old forgotten language, curses flying as Max crawls back and the Buzzard keeps trying to split Max’s head in two. The Road Warrior jumps up, charging against his enemy shoving him to the ground, the Buzzard struggles as he tries to stop Max from stabbing him, but the Wastelander elbows him to the face and plunges the knife just under his ribs, the shock and pain stop him long enough for Max to pull the shiv out and stab him on the neck, breaking the fragile knife.

Silence, complete and utter silence

Just for a second, no voices

A motor roars behind him

Max turns clumsily and grunts with every bullet his handgun spits, trying desperately to kill the driver as the car charges towards him like a bull. He screams as a bullet plunges itself on the Buzzards neck and the car swerves sideways and crashes against the last incoming vehicle, making them both stop.

His ears ring and his face is full of blood

But he stands up as the stunned Buzzards start to exit their vehicles, pulling his AK up.

_Steady there Rockatansky, and use semi-auto or burst fire, we don’t want you wasting those bullets_

He guns them down

One by one

They fall like flies, no time to run.

A bullet hits the last one’s leg, he tries to crawls away, desperately. Max walks slowly towards him, grabs his neck and twists.

Crunch

And the Wasteland is filled with silence.

He loots the bodies and siphons the guzzoline as fast as he can, Glory pulling him by the jacket.

“C’mon Max!”

He grunts as he puts his bike on the back of one of the Buzzard cars, the least damaged, it reminds him of his Interceptor a lil’ bit, just more…spiky.

“Hurry up!” The girl yells at him, he just grunts once again, as he enters the vehicle.

“Don’t push me”

He has a citadel to return to.


	3. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max runs into a Citadel patrol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys sorry for not posting, my life was wreck for some months but now it's more or less stabilized and I've got some of those sweet vacations, so I can write freely for a while. As always feedback is appreciated as well as advice.

Regret comes after the killing

**Max**

Just like always

**Monster**

**Monster**

**You’re a monster Max**

He doesn’t really care about the Buzzards, but he knows that killing becomes easier the more you do it.

And killing is as easy as breathing for him now

And he remembers

Times were killing was not the _only_ choice, were killing was a last resort, were killing was _bad._

Now?

Killing is the only thing that keeps you alive.

And Max doesn’t know how to die

He drives as fast as he rides, and with way more ease, they used to call him the top pursuit-man of the MFP, when things like law still existed. Driving is one of the few things he _likes,_ for him, there’s nothing better than the rumble of an engine and the feel of the wheel under his fingers.

It almost makes him forget about the voices

**Max**

_Almost_

The drive has been quiet, nothing interesting really has happened since the Buzzard ambush, Glory sitting on the passenger seat, her tiny ghost hands changing ghost stations on a ghost radio.

Max is surprised by how much music his broken mind remembers.

The three towers of the Citadel can already be seen in the distance, he just passed the Gastown border, the smoking towers of the Fuel city high on the horizon, security has been lacking since both Scrotus and the People Eater died, the death of the Immortan sent the entire region into chaos.

And he left Furiosa and the girls alone in the chaos.

**Max**

**Max**

**You left us Max**

He shakes his head

Besides, Gastown has enough to worry about at the moment, without any big warlords, small-time leaders of the tribes south of Gastown were able to expand and now those tribes have established a somewhat shaky alliance to fight what remains of Gastown. He keeps humming to himself as he speeds up, trying to leave the ghosts behind.

He meets the patrol halfway through.

A lone truck with a few escort bikes, Citadel-made, the vehicles still hold sigils of skulls and bones but other symbols are painted on them now as well, white vines and leaves. Max lets out a sigh of relief as Glory smiles at him; those new symbols mean that they’re all _probably_ still alive.

**Max**

**Max, c’mon!**

**Come back to us Max**

He slows down to a non-threatening pace, he can see War-Boy silhouettes holding thundersticks on the bikes, he shudders and shakes his head, flashes of his capture on the Powder lakes.

_Get him! Get him!_

The citadel vehicles slow down too, until both them and Max stop in front of each other. The boys on the bikes don’t look older than 20, and the back of the truck apparently is crawling with more boys. The door opens and an older Warboy steps down, way older.

He has more tumors than any other War boy, goggles covering his eyes and some sort of cap over his head that look more for swimming than anything else, he can’t really guess his age, but he actually looks _older_ than Max, an ornate belt hangs around his waist, the metallic death symbol of the Citadel shines bright right in the middle of it, a token of his apparent high-status. That really isn’t too common, someone old, but what really caught his eye is his weapon

A grenade launcher

A _fucking_ grenade launcher

Max almost gasps

“State your business” he says, and his voice, gears shift inside Max’s brain.

_What have you done?!_

That voice, he was chained up on Nux’s car, and he was grabbing Furiosa’s neck and he remembers the man being thrown down from the rig-

**Max**

His hand twitches, almost grabbing for a gun.

Instead he gets out of the car, taking the goggles and the scarf off his face, he was the one who revealed Immortan Joe’s body and Furiosa gave him the scarf, maybe they’ll recognize him and if Furiosa and the girls are alive and in control (they absolutely **need** to be) the War Boys may not try to kill him.

They haven’t tried it yet, that’s a good sign, right?

_Right?_

The War Boys on the back of the truck start to jump off as Max steps carefully out of his car, revolver in hand, but something’s off, they look…smaller?

They’re children

_Kids_

**Pa?**

**Pa, where are you Pa?**

Their little faces shift and he can see a dozen little Sprogs and Glorys, all bloody and broken staring at him with hateful eyes-

**MAX MAX MAX**

**WHY DIDN’T YOU SAVE US MAX?!**

He grunts as he shakes his head and closes his eyes, trying to focus on the real world, quite hard when the older War Boys twist and shift into burning images of Nux, flames dancing across his body as his face distorts into a screaming skull.

**MAX!**

He trips and falls down, little voices and feet echo as muffled noise as the voices take over his mind.

It haunts him It haunts It haunts him

“-Away from him!” He hears through the static, sees a tiny pack of little War Boys lingering over as the old one pushes them back, away from Max with his grenade launcher while his other hand points a short crossbow to Max’s face.

“It’s Max! Mad Max we’re telling you Ace!”

_Mad...Max?_

The children look distressed, clutching their little handguns tightly; little things probably have shit-range and their short-crossbows, heavy in their tiny hands. Most of them look barely over 10, few of them looking like 12 or 15 year olds, their war paint making them all look like tiny skeletons.

**Max**

He shakes

“I’ve seen you before, eh, you’re Nux’s Blood Bag!” Ace exclaims Max doesn’t know what to make of his smile.

“Max” He rasps, partly blinded by the sun, trying to cover his eyes with his hand “Name’s Max”

“See?” One of the kids says, looking all smug about himself “Told ya Ace! Told ya!”

Ace shrugs and smiles to the kids as he shrugs and the little ones cheer, soon they’re all around him, little hands tugging at his jacket getting his twitchy self up, Max is way too stunned to resist as Ace takes his wrist and pulls him up. He blinks a couple of times, to test his own reality out, to make sure he’s still there. He can see the War Boys with detail now, their bodies now painted ash grey instead of bone white, the paint looking less…thick. Most of them are little kids, Max guesses that only a handful of them are over 10, the ones on the bikes look like the only ones over 15; Max is surprised when he actually sees _girls,_ young females painted grey.

Looks like change really came to the Citadel.

“Max eh? Been hearing bout’ you at the Citadel, all the Citadel has actually” Max quirks an eyebrow up, his face looking more panicked than curious, Ace chuckles, the little War Boys letting out whispered Maxes and Mads and Road Warriors.

“Road Warrior” One of them dreamingly says as he tugs at his jacket, Max backing off, twitchy

“Miss Cheedo and Miss Capable have been telling wild tales bout’ you to the pups, tiny fellows spread the word fast” Ace says as he chuckles.

Max’s face twitches and he smiles for a second.

They’re _alive_

**Max**

**Max, come back to us**

“So…why you here?”

“mmm I…I want…to help”

_I want redemption_

“All help is needed, tis why we use the pups now” Ace says patting one of the pups head with his hand, and Max can’t stop noticing how _young_ they all are, forced to fight in the Wasteland.

He doesn’t really like it

But he’ll talk to Furiosa and the girls about it when he sees them.

_He’ll talk to them_

**Come back to us Max**

“Alright people, back on your rides! We’re bringin’ Max to the Citadel!” The War Boys nod as the Pups cheer, chanting Max! As they get on the back of Ace’s truck.

Max flinches with every mention of his name. He quickly walks back to his car, anxious to drive.

He almost gets a heart attack, finding an intruder in his car. It’s the Ace, sitting like nothing in the passenger seat, humming to himself as he fidgets with his weapon, must have entered as Max was too haunted to notice. The Road Warrior gives him a quizzical look as he gets inside the car, the Ace gives him a grin and shrugs.

“Security issues mate” He explains and Max nods, wary, stories or not this man doesn’t really trust him.

And the feeling is mutual.

The drive is semi-silent, the Ace hums as he inspects his weapon, glancing at his truck from time to time as if to check on the kids, the armed children laugh and cheer as they toy around the back of the truck, bikes riding close in formation, efficient, professional, wasteland-tested. But it looks sloppy still, maneuvered by young inexperience hands.

At least these War Boys don’t look as rabid as before, but they still look crazy enough.

Max himself is trying to focus on the drive, anxious to arrive, the Citadel towers gleam like Wasteland dreams in the distance, closer with every second that passes. He can feel Glory’s ghost arms wrapped around his neck as she hums a tune and hops on the backseat.

He grits his teeth and tries to ignore it.

One breath at a time.

1, 2, 1, 2, 1-

“Ah fuck” Ace mutters under his breath as he glances out the window “Gastown cars-again”

Max’s own eyes shoot sideways, in the distance he can see the clouds of dust, the faint shadows of vehicles gliding along the desert sand, wasteland-shaped, furious engines, spitting fire as they drag metal forward.

A sight all too familiar

**Max**

**Where were you Max?!**

He shakes his head, he needs to stay focused, he glances at the Ace, asks with his eyes.

“Nah” Ace mutters, shaking his head softly “They’re far enough, leadslingers gonna get em’ anyway”  he says, sounding more bored than relieved that they can avoid  a fight.

Max nods faintly, but he still fangs the car, engine revving up as the car charges forward with speed.

“One would think they would leave us alone Joe-damn Gastown schlangers…” Ace exclaims, voice filled with annoyance “With them tribes on the south…Thought they didn’t have any Boys to spare, not enough with them Rock Riders they throw at us I guess.”

“Gastown hirin’ Rock Riders?” Max inquires, eager to learn some info, he was busy running from Ghosts for over 90 days.

“Yeah, guzz n’ parts for Aqua Cola n’ blood, everyone wants a piece of Citadel ya know? Them Buzzards n’ Roadkill too, Bullet Farm’s been busy though…they still fightin’ over who’s Boss there”

Max nods with a grunt; he isn’t too surprised of the Buzzard’s involvement or Roadkill’s, the savage gang alliance.

“Roadkill’s actin’ on mmm it’s own or….hired too”

“A lil’ of both, ya know how them Smegs are”

He doesn’t need to ask for the Buzzards, no one hires the Buzzards because no one understands them. Roadkill is just a shady alliance of gangs, tied to together by a deal of not fighting each other; he guesses it’s reasonable for some of them to be hired by Gastown to deal with the Citadel.

He nods again

The sun is at its highest point when they arrive, the green of the towers clearly visible as they approach the recently built gates.

The towers have been connected by walls on the ground level, shady but firm-looking constructions of scrap metal, heavy gates guarded by people dressed in red rags, clutching guns in confidence probably provided by the possession of guns themselves.

“Who are those?” He asks, curious about the unknown guard.

“Ah, those one of them Wretched Gangs, yeah, the Bloodborn” he tells this with tinge of disdain “Smegs get some Aqua Cola and a shank n’ they suddenly think they can war better than us Warboys, heh, crazy smegs eh?” It’s clear that he doesn’t like the fact of anyone besides War Boys protecting the Citadel; Max wonders how deeply this resentment goes.

“Wretched…gangs?” He keeps inquiring, he needs more info.

“Lots of em’ now, all over the place” he mutters annoyed “Got em’ Bloodborn, the Lizard People, Crows, Wasteland Angels, the Sun Praisers…like I said, all over the place” he shakes his head.  A frown settled on his face as he sticks his neck out the window and shouts.

“Open the Joe-damn gates! We’re bringin’ the Road Warrior!” The guards seem equally confused and curious, wary as they inspect Max from afar. They eventually shrug, signaling to someone on the other side of the walls to open the gates as their little convoy enters the Citadel.

He takes a deep breath as he thinks on what the hell he’s gonna tell Furiosa and the girls.

Behind him, Glory is leaning forward, toying with the ghost radio as she hums happily

**Come back to us Max**   



End file.
